20
A huge rectangular square with a clear pavement stretched out in front of us.
It was so crowded that I could barely see the canopies of the stalls.
The noise was so deafening that I couldn’t distinguish a single word from the people around us.
The salesmen shouted over each other, yelling to attract customers, who responded by screaming even louder to be heard above the chaos.
Luckily, Escrain kept us from getting caught in the chaotic crowd. Instead, we moved toward the outskirts of the market, weaving through the excrement of horses, cows, mules, goats, and hens. We also stepped over the fallen fruit and vegetables outside the boxes stacked behind the stalls.
The red color was everywhere.
On citizens’ robes, on the drapes hanging between banquets to provide shade, on the paintings on ceramic vases, on the embroidery on fine fabrics folded on counters, on the cloths covering various types of cheese, and even on the brands fire-printed on the poor animals.
It was like seeing blood everywhere.
We walked along one of the wide staircases that led to three large whitish buildings surrounding the square. We headed toward the one at the far end, where other slaves were either climbing the steps with the pirates who had captured them or descending with their satisfied new owners.
The steps felt like burning coals under my feet, and the sun’s rays reflecting off them blinded me. When we finally passed between the porch columns and reached the shade, I allowed myself a quick sigh of relief.
We entered what appeared to be a temple, featuring a quadrangular corridor surrounded by several rooms that encircled a large cloister.
Beneath delicate scarlet curtains, tables were arranged with food and drinks.
Men and women, dressed in elegant togas of shades of red, ochre, and white, enjoyed the offerings while conversing, standing, or reclining on large gold and purple cushions.
Escrain did not take us to them. We continued down the corridor, weaving through groups of slaves waiting to be received in the other rooms. Aside from Amlach and me, only three other people were in chains. It was true, then: These humans had chosen to be here.
We reached a threshold where no one was in line, and the second-in-command instructed us to wait while the captain disappeared behind a thick vermilion curtain.
After a few seconds, two of the prisoners were called to enter.
Within a minute, another two were urged in, and the process continued until only the family ahead of us remained.
I shifted my weight from my left to my right foot, feeling nervous, my breath quickening. My eyes darted from one end of the corridor to the other as my mind desperately tried to come up with an escape plan.
I had been so stupid, so naive. So insane.
I shouldn’t be here. I should be with my mother, walking in the gardens. With my father in his study, listening to him and learning how to govern. With Araton, training together with our soldiers.
I had to go home. I had to . . .
The lower part of Amlach’s biceps pressed against the upper part of mine. My heart stopped kicking furiously, anxiety eased from my body, and I returned to a state of normal tension.
The human family was sent beyond the curtain.
During the long minute that passed, Amlach never broke the contact between his arm and mine. And I didn’t move away either.
The head of the captain’s second-in-command peeked out from the curtain. “Come,” he said, pulling aside the thick cloth with his calloused hand.
The large men behind us jabbed us in the back with their clubs. I furtively met Amlach’s gaze. He understood my thoughts and, with an intense look, silently told me not to react.
As we entered, the warm scent of essential oils being heated on burners filled the air, enveloping me in an atmosphere of mystery, seduction, and exoticism.
Red draperies cascaded down the walls like bloodstreams, deepening the room’s darkness despite the blinding light filtering in through the tall, ornamental, stone-carved windows.
The couple with children stood in a corner to our right, along with two young people and two female slaves—one middle-aged and the other older—both well-groomed, wearing bronze collars and cuffs.
In the opposite corner, the rest of the prisoners, who Escrain clearly failed to sell in this round, were crammed together.
Some looked discouraged, while others seemed ready to yell at the captain for disappointing their hopes of finding a new home quickly.
Across the room, a luxurious ruby-red carpet with a floral pattern in cornflower blue and ivory, bordered with hints of pink, silver, green, and sapphire, spread out.
On the rug sat a long wooden armchair with crimson cushions, where a man in his sixties rested.
Dressed in red, he had long, thick gray hair that sharply contrasted with his very tanned, slightly oily skin.
He had deep wrinkles on his forehead, around the sides of his icy blue eyes, and around his large, potato-shaped nose and lips, which were framed by a thick white goatee.
He wore gold jewelry decorated with precious stones on his fingers and around his broad neck.
Two very young slaves wearing copper collars and cuffs fanned his face and feet in leather sandals with large palm leaves.
“And now, the highlight!” Captain Escrain exclaimed suddenly as his right-hand man stood beside him, while Amlach and I were stopped in the middle of the room.
He stepped forward and pointed at us with a dramatic gesture of his arm.
“Master Roxior, I bring you the commander of the legion of the Kingdom of Men and the Princess of the Elves.”
Bored, the Master picked the last white grape from the bunch on the gold-lacquered plate beside the armchair. “And where did you get such a prize?”
He had a deep-throated voice, hard as stone.
The pirate crossed his arms, chest high. “In the middle of the Thalion Sea. But I’ll let the blonde here share their little story. She enjoys making pompous speeches.” He winked at me with a creepy smile.
As I glared at him, I felt Amlach’s eyes burning on one side of my face, silently ordering me not to dare open my mouth.
I couldn’t decide which of the two men bothered me more.
Far from impressed, Master Roxior took the pipe beside the bunch of grapes. It was made of ivory foam, featuring a stove depicting a fox’s head—complete with a pointed snout, sharp teeth, and thick mane—and an amber mouthpiece.
Lightning it as if he had all the time in the world, he said, “For years, I have allowed you to show me your wares, Escrain, although other Masters think you’re a rat to be left to rot in the desert.
And this is how you repay me in the end?
” He took a deep drag and, blowing out thick white smoke, hissed through his teeth, “Deceiving me?”
“Sir!” Escrain was outraged, a vein pulsing on his temple. “You offend me if you think I would ever do that.”
Roxior gave him a sharp glance as he continued to smoke calmly.
“And you offend me, pirate, pawning off this female as an elf. I have enough pleasure slaves running around my house. I don’t need another one, no matter how incredible her beauty is.
The male is in fine shape and will look good once cleaned.
I could buy him as my personal guard for a thousand gold coins. ”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Amlach grimace in indignation—perhaps he believed he was worth a higher sum because of his military rank.
Escrain showed no signs of hearing Roxior’s final words and remained focused on me.
“This maiden is an elf, Master,” he said.
He approached me and reached out to touch my hair, but stopped with his hand in midair when I shot him a deadly look.
He swallowed nervously and glanced at his second-in-command’s bandaged arm, then forced a courteous smile onto his face. “Do you mind, Highness?”
Humiliated and furious, I tucked my hair behind my right ear and turned my head to show it to Roxior, keeping my eyes fixed on Amlach’s fingers to maintain control. He closed them with enough force to whiten his knuckles.
“See, Master?” Sneering, the pirate indicated my ear with a contrived gesture. “Peaked ears.”
Roxior didn’t lose his composure. “I know what kind of people work at the harbor, Escrain. You might have paid someone to add that . . . skin.”
The captain folded his hands on his chest, lifting his chin with pride. “I haven’t, Master.”
Roxior blew out a cloud of smoke that almost took the shape of a circle before it dispersed. “Prove it.” Noticing the confusion on the pirate’s face, he added, “Bring me her ear.”